017 Jump down, turn around pdf

midi Melodie

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Folk music provides a window into culture and history, but sometimes that window exposes past racism and intolerance. This month's column explores how music can teach children much more than a melody.
by Dana Williams

I usually know what to expect when it’s time to throw my squirming 6-year-old in the bathtub — lots of water on the floor, repeated questions about how the drain makes those water tornadoes and, of course, an impromptu nudie performance of whatever song he’s learning in music class that week.
That has been our routine nearly every night for at least the last two years. But when he started singing about picking cotton one evening, I was more than a little taken aback:Whoa Lordy; pick a bale of cotton
Whoa Lordy; pick a bale a dayJump down, turn around; pick a bale of cotton
Jump down, turn around; pick a bale a day
So there I was, kneeling beside the tub, watching my child perform what could have very well been a minstrel show. Not believing my ears or my eyes, I asked him, “Whoa Lordy, where did you learn that song?” He giggled, shrugged and replied, “We sing it in music.” I immediately imagined a roomful of 5 and 6-year olds jumping down, turning around, pretending to pick cotton plants, as though the song describes a task that’s always been met with great joy. “Well, what do you know about picking cotton?” I probed. “Did your teacher tell you about who picked cotton or what that was like?” He shook his head, “Un-uh,” continuing the performance. It turns out his class learned the words and movements to the song during Black History Month. But they didn’t learn who wrote it, who sang it or why. I was dumbfounded and appalled. How or why would any teacher in the year 2003 introduce a song rooted in slavery without providing some context to explain its history or significance? We weren’t in a classroom, but as a parent and a black woman born, raised and still living in the South, I certainly recognized and seized this moment as a teaching opportunity. After my son’s bathtub performance, we talked all about how cotton grows and how hard that kind of work was for those who had to pick it by hand. We talked about work songs and how slaves used them to get through the grueling workday. I pointed out the cotton pajamas he would put on after his bath. And I told him about the miles and miles of cotton fields right in the state where we live. He was so intrigued he made me promise to show him a real one the next time we take a long drive. Folk and work songs always have been windows into culture and history. I still remember many of the melodies I sang in elementary school. “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad” was our classroom soundtrack for learning about the Industrial Revolution. But many of the songs my generation learned also were windows into the racism and intolerance tied to this country’s past. These songs can be invaluable as resources to teach lessons of tolerance and understanding, but only when presented in that context. Clearly, my son’s teacher did not do this with “Pick a Bale.”